


Sacrifice for the Cause

by fuzipenguin



Series: Drunken Shenanigans [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Twins spike some drinks with unexpected results. Jazz soon finds this out first hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice for the Cause

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a series of prompts on tumblr that I decided to string together and elaborate on. This piece was prompted by a request for some party ambulance Ratchet.

     “Thish is a great party!” Ratchet shouted over the din of music and loud voices. 

     “Thanks, Ratch,” Jazz replied, unable to stop grinning, even as he ducked an exuberantly out flung arm. He had never seen the medic so inebriated before, despite knowing him for at least half of the war. The CMO’s optics were bright with charge, his EM field unfurled and relaxed, and he wobbled in place as his gyros tried to account for high grade induced lag time.

     Jazz actually had to reach out and steady Ratchet when a particularly violent sway nearly toppled him off his feet. Ratchet apparently took that as an invitation, and he sidled forward with a leer. A warm, broad hand landed on Jazz’s waist, smoothly hooking around his lower back and pulling him flush against the medic’s hot frame. 

     “ _Great_ party,” Ratchet repeated, slurring it softly against Jazz’s audial, nuzzling it. 

     “Ratch, man, how much have you had to drink?” Jazz asked, laughing a little, unable to help leaning into the caress. The closer he was to Ratchet, the better Jazz could support him.

     Yup. That was the only reason.

     “Thish?” Ratchet scoffed, moving back a little to gesture with his half empty cube. “’s only like my… fourth? Fifth? Thish ain’t nothin’! Why, in my Academy days…”

     “There you are!” 

     Wheeljack suddenly appeared on Ratchet’s other side, the medic’s expression brightening as soon as he caught sight of the engineer. “’Jackie!”

     Ratchet transferred his embrace to his best friend, immediately nosing at the other mech’s throat. Highly amused at the whole situation, Jazz watched Wheeljack’s optics go a little hazy. 

     “You got him?” Jazz asked Wheeljack, catching his attention. 

     “Yeah, I… _Ratchet_!” Wheeljack suddenly yelped, and swiveled his hips away from Ratchet’s wandering hand. Wheeljack reached out and snagged his friend’s wrist when it became apparent shifting away wasn’t going to be enough to detour Ratchet from stroking Wheeljack’s interface panel. “What have I told you about that?”

     “Do it more?” Ratchet purred, leering suggestively.

     Damn. They all needed to get Ratchet drunk more often; not just for the opportunity for the poor mech to let loose, but also for the sheer entertainment value. Jazz wondered if the rest of the crew was prepared for a relaxed and playful Ratchet. He had already seen several wide-opticked mechs staring at the medic with surprise and confusion.

     Although, there were some whose expressions were more hungry than shocked. The Twins had been sticking close by in the last half hour, looking intrigued and predatory as Ratchet wobbled about, throwing back cube after cube.

     In fact, Jazz vowed to go have a word with them. Ratchet was obviously three sheets to the wind (and what did that mean exactly? It was one of the more interesting human expressions, but one of these days, he was really going to have to look up its origin, for curiosity’s sake) and likely easily taken advantage of like this. Jazz had other party goers to mingle with, and Wheeljack was too easily distracted to stick close to Ratchet’s side for the rest of the night. While Jazz was all for Ratchet kicking back, Jazz didn’t want to sort out drunken regrets in the morning.

     Of course, he could always pawn off that duty on Prowl. Jazz could just imagine the exasperated look on his best friend’s face.

     Speaking of… where _was_ Prowl? Jazz had been surprised a few minutes ago to even _see_ the 2IC at the party much less holding an energon cube. Jazz hoped Prowl hadn’t left already. Craning his neck, Jazz stepped away and tried to scan the rest of the room, seeking out those distinctive black and white sensory panels. He would check on Prowl first (the poor mech sometimes needed instructions on having a proper good time) and then have a stern word with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

     “Eh! Where do you think yer goin?” Ratchet protested, immediately grabbing Jazz and hauling him in against Ratchet’s front. Jazz ended up smushed between the two larger mechs, Ratchet’s engine revving in interest. 

     Wheeljack looked down at him with an apologetic strobe of his helm fins. “Sorry. He gets a little… frisky… when he’s had a lot to drink,” he explained. “Although usually he can handle himself better than this. I think he’s only had four…”

     “This ain’t frisky. I’ll  _show_  you frisky,” Ratchet interrupted with a murmur, promptly bending his head to take one of Jazz’s audial horns into his mouth and humming around the tip. 

     ‘Easily taken advantage of’, Jazz reminded himself as a molten heat shot through his lines. 

     “And the more the merrier,” Wheeljack added, optics crinkling at the edges. “You want out, do it now,” he suggested, his hand coming up to rub a thumb lightly against Jazz’s opposite horn. His knees buckled at the doubling of sensation, and he clutched at both mech’s arms. 

     Well. It just wouldn’t do for Ratchet to fall into the wrong hands, like the Twins’. Guess Jazz would have to sacrifice himself to the cause. Prowl could surely take care of himself…

 

~ End


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